Memories of a Mirage
by PagesofAngels
Summary: Memories retain both pleasure and pain, even for a mirage. [A series of memories from Erika's past as requested by readers of 'The Mirage of the Opera (A Gender-Bent Retelling)' on Tumblr and elsewhere.] *All memories are canonic with my Retelling!Verse*
1. Nightmare

**~ Based on the prompt 'Nightmare' sent by Mais-Monsier-Le-Vicomte on Tumblr ~**

The entire bedroom reeked of alcohol as the door slowly creaked open. Erika pretended to be asleep, though she knew it wouldn't do her any good. It was late into the night, but the sound of her mother opening the door was enough to jolt the child from a sound sleep.

"Erika," the word came out slurred.

Erika turned over in bed, hiding the unseeable part of her face in the pillow. "Yes, _maman_?"

"The curtains in the parlor are not as they were."

The girl held her breath. She thought she had readjusted the curtains earlier that evening, when she had broken the rules and peered outside. Despite drowning her mind in wine every night, she couldn't deny the otherworldly power of observation her mother possessed. Much to her dismay.

Her mother beckoned her over, her dark eyes glinting. "Here. Now."

Erika had no choice. If she disobeyed, there would be even greater Hell to pay. Wincing as she rose – the bruise on her ribs still smarting from the earlier punishment in the day – she shuffled unwillingly across the floor. She braced herself when she came within her mother's reach, but preparing herself never made it easier to bear.

Her mother's hand closed roughly around her shoulder, sinking the fingernails into her collarbone. With a yank, Erika was pulled closer. It caused her to stumble, but the moment she corrected her footing she received a vicious slap to her misshapen cheek. The flesh was thin there, and her mother knew that was where a strike would hurt the most.

That's when Erika woke in a cold sweat. Just another nightmare. Just another memory.


	2. Animals

**~ Based on the prompt 'Animals' sent by DaynaGriffin on Tumblr ~**

This was why Erika enjoyed looking out the back window. When her mother was asleep, she would immediately go there, eager to view the corner of the woods just beyond their fence. The sky was a vibrant orange as the scarlet sun set in the west, shining through the thin birch trees. Just beyond the trees, standing right next to the fence, was a doe.

It was rare that Erika saw any of the deer that lived in the woods, but so far they all had been stoic-looking bucks with tall masses of antlers. She had never seen a doe before. The animal was grazing on the hedges, oblivious to the other animal watching her from the house. She was majestic. So sleek and slender, with big black eyes that reflected the orange of the sky. Erika could've watched her forever.

* * *

The carnival wagons often had a problem with rats. Erika's first run-in with these little pests had her paranoid to get out of her hammock in the middle of the night. She had woken up one night, thirsty for a drink. As she swung her feet onto the ground, she stepped directly on something furry…and warm…and loud. It emitted a shrill squeak and something sharp punctured Erika's heel.

The rat bite became infected quickly and took weeks to heal. Erika had been permitted a few days off to prevent her fever from spreading to the other performers. However, no performance meant she couldn't earn better meals at the end of the day. So, until the bite healed, she had to survive off of broth and stale bread. She wasn't allowed meat again until she could earn it by getting back on the stage.


	3. Strawberries

**~ Based on the prompt 'Strawberries' sent by DaynaGriffin on Tumblr ~**

It was a sweltering summer day in Nice, the most recent city the caravan had decided to visit. While the booths and stages of the carnival were being prepared, Erika sought relief from the beating sunlight beneath a tree on the edge of the clearing. Breathing beneath the heavy gauze around her head was always difficult, but even more so on days like this – when the air was thick with humidity.

In the underbrush just beyond the tree line, she spied the most peculiar little plants. Tiny bushes with bright red fruits that vibrantly contrasted with the green of the forest. Curious, she crawled closer and brushed aside the foliage for a better look. The little fruits were like nothing she'd ever seen before. They were shaped like plump hearts with tiny white specks covering them…making them look almost distorted and lumpy. Despite their odd appearance, they were strangely pleasant to look at.

The faintest scent of something sweet tickled Erika's senses. Were these little fruits edible? Surely something that smelled so wonderful couldn't be poisonous? Right?

Plucking the plumpest fruit she could see, Erika glanced behind her to check for any prying eyes. With no one looking, she unwrapped the gauze from her face and bit into the succulent fruit.

* * *

As the afternoon began to cool into a blue twilight, Erika found she hadn't been poisoned and that she truly enjoyed the taste of these little fruits. They had a very potent flavor, and that's mostly why she enjoyed them. With her sense of taste and smell weaker than most, she particularly enjoyed potent flavors.

She had gathered a great many of these fruits and had been carrying them back to the caravan in the skirt of her dress. It wouldn't be long until her curfew arrived, and the Carnival Master was adamant about her getting enough rest the night before a show. She was hurrying back across the clearing, when she stumbled and rolled her ankle in a divot. She folded in on herself, thrown forward from her momentum, splattering the bright red fruits all over the front of her dress.

She received quite a scolding when she returned to the caravan. She had completely ruined the dress, which was one-third of the outfits she owned. She wasn't permitted to wander very far from the caravan after that.


	4. Cake

**~ Based on the prompt 'Cake' sent by DaynaGriffin on Tumblr ~**

It was Marc's sixth birthday. Erika was still trying to adjust to living in the third cellar, and now here she was being introduced to an equally strange concept: that birthdays were something to be celebrated.

It was a warm day, so Monsieur Giry had taken them outside to the park after sunset. To celebrate the occasion, he had brought along a small basket containing a strawberry cake. As she was handed a slice of the dessert, Erika wasn't sure what the treat was for. It didn't matter, though. She adored anything strawberry.

* * *

Her mother had tried baking again, and it went about as well as it had before. What exactly possessed her to try and bake a cake that day, God only knew. All the windows had to be opened to let out the grey smoke that coughed from the oven, the cake inside a smoldering crisp.

After most of the smoke had left the house, her mother had shuffled into her bedroom, muttering swears under her breath. Erika soon did the same. There wouldn't be any food for either of them that evening.


	5. Boo

**~ Based on the prompt 'Boo' sent by DaynaGriffin on Tumblr ~**

It was a cruel joke to play on a six-year-old, but it was too much fun to resist. Erika crouched in wait, nestled into a small gap between two panels of scenery. She adjusted the bare carnival mask she still constantly wore over her face. It was stuffy, but better than the bandages she'd been made to wear at the carnival.

Small footsteps drew closer from across the stage. When they were mere feet from her hiding place, Erika leapt out with a snake-like hiss.

Marc turned around so suddenly, his shoes squeaked against the floor of the stage. Scrambling like a fawn, he bounded back in the direction he had just come from, screaming: _"Papa! Papa!"_

Erika chased after him, laughing all the way. It was a game only she enjoyed, but the two of them played it often.


	6. Newborn

Only one week old, and already the infant was malnourished. She hadn't nursed from her mother in three days. Her cries had gone unanswered for just as long, and by now she was too weak to do much but whimper.

 _"It's your responsibility, Charlotte!"_ a deep voice behind the nursery wall shouted. _"You call yourself a woman, yet you cannot do the simplest of a woman's task!"_

 _"It feels disgusting to let her suckle from me!"_ the mother's voice responded. _"There's hardly a mouth there at all!"_

 _"I refuse to lose my livelihood because my wife is a murderer!"_

 _"It's not murder if the infant dies on her own!"_

The newborn heard her mother's voice and gradually her small whimpers rose into another round of shrieking. The nursery door opened and the mother strode to the bassinet. The newborn was snatched from her cradle and thrust toward the man in the bright hallway. He recoiled.

 _"Ha! You see? You're no less repulsed by your own daughter."_

The man scowled – be it at his wife or his child, it was impossible to tell. _"Her christening has been scheduled for tomorrow morning. I will not have my good name soiled, Charlotte! I. Will. Not!"_

 _"Your name?! What of mine? I will forever be seen as the bearer of a monster! You would have that put upon me?!"_

 _"If one of us is to be put upon, I see no issue with it being you."_

The newborn continued to cry, suspended in the space between her parents.

 _"Bastard!"_

The nursery door slammed shut, leaving the infant alone with her mother. Her shrieks quieted as she was given a quick wash and was wrapped in a clean swaddle. Finally, in a corner of the dim little nursery, she was fed.

Her mother's tears fell on her…half missing…face.


End file.
